


Handle With Care

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Team Talon (Overwatch)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: Widowmaker can't know Sombra's still friends with Baptiste. Baptiste probably should know Sombra's dating Widowmaker. Sombra needs a drink.





	Handle With Care

Sombra didn’t make any plans to contact Baptiste when he left Talon. Honestly, the second he told her, she got to work severing anything that connected them. As he told her about the little boy he saw in the rubble, she reminded herself how annoying his sanctimony was. As he told her about how he couldn’t use the clinic to justify his complacency anymore, she reminded herself how selfish his conscience was. She gave him monosyllabic answers as she systematically drew knives across their friendship, determined to carve out everything that made her care about him. 

 

Because if Baptiste left Talon, Talon would kill him. And Sombra had had enough people she cared about die already. As he left, she was angry at him, sure, for being so stupid. But she was mainly angry at herself, for being stupid enough to care about someone again. 

 

But despite her fastidious efforts to stop, she still cared about him. And so she had to know. When Cuerva and her team disappeared, she sent digital feelers across the Haitian countryside. It took her a while. But finally, she found him. Alive. 

 

He left the country soon after that, and Sombra found him again in Costa Rica. She hacked the phone of some fellow patron of a bar he ended up at. Told them she’d pay them triple, if they bought the cute guy over there some fruity drink, and booped his nose. 

 

After that, they started meeting up. Not on any definite schedule, neither of them had that luxury. But enough, and they called each other. Baptiste never brought up the way she had left things. She knew he understood. 

 

But now, now that she knew he was a survivor? Now she could care. 

 

-

 

Widowmaker, she didn’t care about for quite some time. She was powerful, yes, and Sombra had use for powerful people. But Widow was so thoroughly under Talon’s control, she couldn’t see how she could ever use Widow. And Widow was pretty, but so was Sombra, and there were plenty of other pretty girls out there with their own minds and their own wills, and Sombra wholly preferred them. 

 

Maybe she started to care as soon as the conditioning began to wear thin. Sombra couldn’t put a particular date on when Widow’s mind and will had tenderly but recognizably regrown. She just knew a year or so into Widow’s tenure, Akande started treating her more like a friend than an employee, and Gabe became subtly uncomfortable around her, and Moira became sullen and catty whenever she was brought up. 

 

But Sombra had definitely begun to care sometime late that year, she was flirting with another agent in some club and spotted Widow over her shoulder, staring at the two of them with naked jealousy. Sombra had made eye contact, smiled, and kissed the girl, watching Widow the whole time. 

 

Widow had gotten up and walked out of the VIP area they were ensconced in. Sombra had stifled her laughter and made out a bit more, then excused herself to go to the bathroom. She slipped outside and sure enough, Widow was leaning against the front of the building. 

 

“Sorry,” Sombra said, in a tone that made it abundantly clear she wasn’t. “I shouldn’t tease you so much.”

 

Widow kept her eyes fixed on the half-empty, 1 AM New York street. “I don’t care,” she told Sombra. And Sombra had to laugh a little at that. 

 

“Yeah, you do.”

 

Widow swung to face Sombra, her long ponytail whipping around her shoulders, her eyes narrowed. Then she blinked, and Sombra had seen this before, Widow being surprised at her own emotions. Sombra waited. Widow put a hand on her cheek and moved in close. Widowmaker was brutally efficient in everything she did, but now, suddenly, she seemed unsure. So Sombra took it upon herself to close the distance between them and kiss her, softly and quickly, pulling away to ask, “You still not caring?”

 

“Shut up,” Widow said, and kissed her again, far more decisively this time. Sombra had grinned into the kiss and slipped an arm around Widow’s waist. They were at the hotel by the time Sombra saw the text from the girl she had left in the club, asking her when she was coming back. 

 

-

 

It wasn’t that Sombra cared what either of them thought. It was purely logistical. Widow could snicker at Sombra’s little jabs, mock Moira under her breath, roll her eyes at Sombra’s little betrayals. At the end of the day, she was still loyal to Talon. And Talon orders were that Baptiste should be brought back to them, dead or alive. Baptiste was a survivor, but that didn’t mean Sombra wanted to push her luck. 

 

Baptiste, Baptiste was a little trickier to explain. Certainly, Sombra could assume he wouldn’t approve of Widow. But it wasn’t like that gave her any pause. She only really registered his hypothetical disapproval when she saw his face, always older and more tired than the last time she had saw him, but always smiling. 

 

Baptiste had enough on his plate, Sombra thought as she nodded along to his story about some utterly dysfunctional refugee camp, taking occasional bites of her lunch. She didn’t need to add to his worries with some girlfriend he’d have to pretend to tolerate. 

 

And of course that meant that her phone started to ring, even though she’d told Widow a thousand times she preferred texting to calling. She slammed down on silence so rapidly and conspicuously that Baptiste stopped talking mid-gesticulation and raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Business as usual?”

 

“Yeah,” Sombra said, and immediately took another bite of the rice bowl in front of her. “Gabe’s been up my ass all week,” she added, raising her hand to cover her full mouth and hopefully, some of her guilt. 

 

It didn’t work. Baptiste leaned back and folded his arms. “Something else is going on,” he announced. “You starting a deal with some new group I don’t know about?”

 

“Yeah. Been trying to get contacts with the Omnics fighting in Siberia–”

 

But she offered the information far too freely, Sombra realized with a wince, and Baptiste dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Are you helping the new Overwatch? I saw they fought Talon at the Numbani museum.”

 

Sombra snorted. “You mean the time they had to get rescued by a fourteen year old? Yeah, no.”

 

“Atlas News didn’t mention that.” Baptiste drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. “New girlfriend you don’t want me to know about?”

 

“I wish,” Sombra said, but she hesitated a moment too long, or looked down at the table for a second, and Baptiste saw. He leaned forward again and grinned, steepling his fingers. 

 

“Well. Now that that’s sorted, you have to tell me all about her. Starting with why you didn’t want to tell me about her.” When Sombra simply turned her attention to her food, ignoring him, Baptiste started his guessing game back up again. “Is she part of Lúmerico?”

 

“No.”

 

“Is it Moira?”

 

Sombra gagged on her rice a little. “Jesus. No.”

 

“Is it my mom?”

 

Sombra set her chopsticks down and sighed. “Your mom’s dead, Baptiste.”

 

“Still. I wouldn’t put it past you.” He fiddled with his own chopsticks absently. “Listen,” he said finally. “I get it. There were times I thought that talking about a good thing would jinx it.”

 

“You mean like how you didn’t tell me you hooked up with the green Shimada for like a month? Even though I super knew?” Baptiste flicked some rice at her, but it splatted on the table in front of her instead. “But yeah. You get it.”

 

“I do. But I’m sure it’s going well, and will keep going well. So tell me about her soon.”

 

Baptiste returned to plucking bits of chicken from his bowl. He seemed to be satisfied with the answer he had given himself. So Sombra had no idea why she left the lunch decidedly unsatisfied. 

 

-

 

Another downside of being friends with Baptiste was the commute. Sombra had Talon ships at her disposal but Japan to Italy was still Japan to Italy, and she by the time she got back to her quarters she was dead on her feet, stumbling over a shoe left near the door and yawning. 

 

She was so tired, it took her a moment to realize that that wasn’t her show. And that the lights were already on. She looked up quickly and relaxed when she saw Widow on her couch. Then she saw Widow’s stony expression and was hit by a different fear. 

 

“Where were you?” Widow asked. 

 

“Uh.” Sombra ran a hand through her hair, painfully aware of how flat and messy and had gotten on the flight. “Out?”

 

“Clearly,” Widow said. “But what were you doing while you were, ‘out’?”

 

This didn’t make sense. Widow was loyal to Talon, but she also seemed to like Sombra enough to overlook Sombra’s extracurriculars– so long as missions she was on went smoothly. And there was nothing major in the present or immediate future, no plan for Sombra to plot even if she wanted to. But Widow seemed so suspicious, and Sombra had no idea what prompted it–

 

“My friend’s in Japan,” Sombra said, latching on to the first, most obvious culprit, her late arrival. “I know it’s a pain, but he’s a really cool guy–” Widow relaxed visibly at the pronoun, and Sombra was thrown for a moment. Then she grinned widely. “Wait.  _ That’s  _ what you thought I was doing?”

 

“I don’t think it’s the most ridiculous thought,” Widow grumbled, folding her arms. “And it wasn’t as though I was certain it was just– a possibility that was bothering me–”

 

“Widow.” Widow quieted as Sombra stepped close, resting her hand on her waist. “You’re not dumb, so I know you don’t trust me on everything but like– this kind of shit? I’m not going to lie to you. And I know you still just have to take my word for it here but– I promise. I’m not.”

 

Widow was quiet for a moment, her eyes closed. Then she let out a breath and allowed herself a small smile. “Okay. Fine.” She moved closer to Sombra though, and wrapped her arm around her back. Widow’s long, cold fingers traced the core cybernetic in Sombra’s spine, and Sombra suppressed a shiver. 

 

“What were you doing, then?” Widow asked. 

 

Sombra was pressed right up against Widow, and so she could not tense up, could not let her heart rate rise, Widow would feel all that. And she had just promised Widow she wouldn’t lie to her about these things. But the thing was, these things also fell under the rubric of Talon things, which Widow had tacitly accepted was a thing Sombra might lie to her about. 

 

And also Sombra didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Widow the thing. 

 

“I really was visiting a friend in Japan,” she said. That wasn’t a lie. Widow hummed. 

 

“Did you have a nice time?”

 

“Yeah,” Sombra said. She waited for Widow to press her more. But Widow just pressed her lips against hers instead, her interest apparently thoroughly shifted. Sombra tried to focus on Widow rocking her hips against hers gently and sliding her hands down Widow’s ass. Not on how she kind of didn’t want to lie at all, anymore. 

 

-

 

Widow looked fairly ridiculous in the face mask. And Sombra kind of wanted to point out that no matter how crowded or polluted Tokyo might be, anything she inhaled here was likely to be far more benign than anything Moira had in her lab. But covering up distinctive blue skin was probably a good idea and between the mask, sunglasses, and snapback, Widow almost blended. 

 

Almost, but Widow could never really blend, could she, even in sweat pants and a track jacket. Sombra leaned up and kissed the small strip of skin still visible on her face. 

 

“We’re close,” she said. “You still feeling up for this?”

 

“I can’t turn back now,” Widow said. “You’re my ride.” Sombra lightly elbowed her and she slowed her walk. “I’m fine, Sombra. I’m guessing you wouldn’t want me to meet one of your… associates, if you thought it would cause genuine problems for either of us.” Sombra nodded. “Though I have to admit, I’m not sure why you want me to meet this one.”

 

“He’s a friend,” Sombra said. “And people meet each other’s friends when they’re dating.”

 

Widow slowed almost to a stop at that, and now Sombra cursed her almost fully hidden face. But Widow resumed walk towards the restaurant again and Sombra followed, having to almost jog to keep up with Widow’s long stride, her heart pounding in her chest. 

 

Baptiste was waiting in the restaurant, a nice place, a place where he had made Sombra promise to pick up the check with Talon cash. Widow’s face might have been almost fully covered but Baptiste was a survivor. He recognized her instantly, and Widow recognized him. He set down the menu he had been holding, and Widow’s posture went stiff. They stared at each other. 

 

The restaurant patrons around them chattered obliviously. The hostess came up to the two women. “We’re meeting a friend,” Sombra told him. Then she looped her arm in Widow’s and tugged her towards Baptiste’s table. 

 

“I had been wondering why you didn’t want to tell me about your girlfriend,” Baptiste said, as soon as Sombra sat down. Widow remained standing at her side. “This makes more sense than my Reyes’s ex-wife theory.”

 

“Current wife,” Sombra said, opening her menu. “I don’t think the marriage’s actually over if he just faked his death.” Widow tugged at Sombra’s shirt. 

 

“This is why you told me not to bring my gun, isn’t it?!” she hissed. “There is no heightened security, is there?!”

 

“Oh good. You’re unarmed.” Baptiste’s right hand slid from off his side, where Sombra presumed it had been clutching an immortality field. “Well. You can stand there for our whole meal if you’d like, but I imagine you’ll get tired. I have a lot of questions for our friend here. So I think this might take a while.”

 

Widow looked down at Sombra. Sombra smiled up at her. “I said you could trust me about this stuff, right?” Sombra said quietly. 

 

“He’s a fugitive from Talon,” Widow said, just as quietly. 

 

“I can hear you,” Baptiste said. Neither woman paid him any mind. 

 

“And I never told you that you could trust me about this.”

 

“No,” Sombra said. “But I do. Or I want to,” she added, when Baptiste snorted. She swatted at him across the table, completely missing because her eyes were still on Widow. “He’s not going to do anything to Talon. He’s doing his own shit. And he’s my friend, and he’s important to me, and so– I wanted you two to meet each other.”

 

Widow had taken her sunglasses off, and so Sombra could see her blink. She silently removed the face mask, and sat down between Baptiste and Sombra. 

 

“You said you had questions,” Widow said to Baptiste. He nodded, and her mouth curved into a smile. “Well. I have stories, and I imagine you do as well. I think we can reach some kind of arrangement.” 

 

Baptiste grinned. “How you two got together, for the time Sombra got arrested by golf course security?”

 

Widow turned to Sombra with a look of brazen delight that should have been impossible for a person with her conditioning. Sombra sunk down in her seat. 

 

“I changed my mind. Neither of you are my friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@tacticalgrandma](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma) on twitter if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world <3


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